


walking after midnight

by Magali_Dragon



Series: one shots and other drabbles [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Love at First Sight, Modern Westeros, No Plot/Plotless, Randomness, Rock Stars, Romantic Fluff, Walks On The Beach, Why Did I Write This?, wandering dany and rock star jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: Dany escapes to Dorne for some clarity and encounters an equally aimless Jon.Or the fic no one asked for where Jon and Dany wander on a beach and drink after just meeting.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: one shots and other drabbles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567705
Comments: 39
Kudos: 346





	walking after midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Where did this come from? I don't know. It came from a variety of things that I wanted to write. Rhaegar being a happy brother, Jon being a rock star, Dany being a bit lost, and aimless beach wanderings at night kind of like Midge and Lenny in the recent season of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, because why not? Plus the train was super slow and I got most of it written on the way home.
> 
> This also was written as a bit of a Secret Santa gift for my non-archive friend who will read when I send her the PDF, haha. 
> 
> Ugh, so here's the shit that came out of all of those musings.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185802593@N06/49240287338/in/dateposted-public/)

Daenerys Targaryen was so done with her current life, like seriously.

First, there was her boyfriend.

She had broken up with him at least three times now, sent over a dozen text messages that it was _over_ and yet Daario still kept trying to weasel his way back into her life. Flowers, emails, and even a fucking stupid singing dragon stuffed animal that had a voicebox saying how much he loved her. She'd removed the voicebox and crushed it beneath her stiletto heel, but kept the stuffed dragon because well, it was a _dragon._

And she really loved dragons.

She had turned thirty a couple of weeks before she dumped him and the birthday had been an awakening of sorts. As if she stepped into fire and came out unscathed. She realized that she had to _get with it._ She was living a life she wasn't sure was even hers sometimes.

Second, there was her job. She was living a life that her family set forth for her, taking back their company from people who overthrew it and she was fine with that, she was a _corporate raider_ as it were. She went in, broke up smaller companies, and bought and sold them. Conquering, her brother called it.

The Targaryens were always involved in business, always involved in politics, and over the years they'd gained and lost but were always in the news. Viserys, her youngest brother, had taken on the mantle of _rich fuckboy_ and was gallivanting off spending his trust fund on fancy cars, models, and had little to no interest in business affairs, although he cared very much about the portion of the company that worked with dragonglass weapons-- he did love a knife, her brother. He also had a shrewd mind for numbers and was very good at getting people to believe him on anything, so he probably would become Prime Minister one day.

There was Rhaegar, the CEO of Balerion Industries, who had rebranded their family's original company into something greater, complete with charitable foundations and goodwill missions, using dragonglass for something other than the weapons Viserys sold. She was primarily responsible for the corporate raiding while Rhaegar played with children in the streets and sang songs and all that. She was _good_ at her job.

Except it was her life too.

It was all she lived in breathed, the _Dragon Queen_ they whispered in the chrome and glass hallways of their tower in Kingslanding. They said she had no life, she was a monster, and she couldn't necessarily disagree. Sometimes she lived off two hours of sleep a night. What little time she gave to herself she was with her boyfriend Daario, who she realized she had spent two years with and had nothing to show for it.

So she was done with him.

And third, she was going to do something unheard of.

Daenerys Targaryen was going to go on a _vacation._

She marched straight into Rhaegar's office-- after sending Daario a threatening message that if he kept contacting her she was going to sic her security detail on him-- bypassing his assistant and placed both hands on the dragonglass desk that stretched in front of a wall of glass windows overlooking Blackwater Bay. He glanced up over the top of his glasses, not one silver hair out of his perfectly coiffed pony tail.

Rhaegar was more of a father to her than a brother, but right now she was petulant little sister. "I'm taking a break," she announced, glaring at him, daring him to say something. She was prepared for it. The meetings, the deadlines, the whatever. She narrowed her lavender eyes on his indigo ones. He said nothing, just stared straight across at her. She pouted. "Say something."

"Good."

So Rhaegar sent her on her way, understanding her need to escape, and offered the company villa in Dorne as a destination. Except she didn't want the company villa, she just wanted to escape with her best girlfriend Missandei. "Perhaps you might want to visit the newest school that we recently built there," he suggested, saying he would put her in touch with the Martells, the "ruling" family in Dorne, who oversaw the series of schools for underprivileged young girls that Balerion Corp. had invested in.

She really didn't want to do anything with work, but she accepted, because it might actually be nice to do something that was truly related to what she _wanted_ to do originally. Before she got roped into the family drama. She wanted to help people.

But first she wanted to enjoy something for herself.

~/~/~/~

Missandei came with her and they were currently enjoying the beaches in Dorne, sipping fruity tropical drinks and working on their suntans. Although with her milk pale skin, she burned before she truly tanned to the lovely copper Missandei was getting.

She sipped on her drink, seated in one of the chaise lounges overlooking the Summer Sea. She pushed her extra-large sunglasses up her nose, needing the almost opaque lenses to prevent the hot sun from burning through her violet irises. She crossed her legs, watching people playing on the beach and contemplated getting up and taking a walk. It was just so _lovely_ she couldn't believe it took her this long to detach from Daario, her cell phone, and her office.

"So Grey got tickets tonight for Watchmen and Wildlings. I told him I was in, but wasn't sure it was your thing, you want to join?" Missandei fiddled with her phone, texting her boyfriend, who tagged along, as he was also a member of Balerion's security detail. She glanced sideways. "You in?"

The straw jabbed her in the roof of her mouth as she tried to suck up the dregs of her drink. "That the band that got in trouble because the drummer threw his sticks in the audience and poked someone's eye out?"

"Tormund Giantsbane, he's hot."

"If you like giant rugged redheads," she mumbled, which she didn't. She had heard their music, it was a bi too screaming rock for her, even if they did technically fall into the whole indie rock genre. She preferred classical. She did have _one_ of their albums, but only because the donations of it went to a school she'd visited up in the North, a boarding school for orphaned kids. The music wasn't _bad_ was just kind of not really her taste, but she didn't _hate it._

Missandei started playing their music, setting her phone on the table between them, stretching back in her chaise. She sighed. "I told him you were coming."

"Missy!"

"You need to get out. This is a vacation, but it's also a chance for you to _move on._ Daario wasted two years of your life. Get back out there."

"And a rock concert is the place to do it?" she mused. She chuckled. "Where are they playing?"

"The Snake Pit."

"Missy that's a massive arena! I won't meet anyone!"

"You will at the club they agreed to play at afterward, Grey is trying to get tickets through someone knows on their security team." She chuckled, tapping her fingers along to the driving drum beat of the song currently playing. "This is a good one, and besides, if you aren't interested in their drummer, their guitarist is pretty hot."

Yes, he was hot, she thought, pulling her phone out and bringing up the band's Westerospedia page. They started out of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, a tiny little town on the far edge of the North, right beside the border with the stateless territory only called Beyond the Wall. No one really lived there, too cold and dangerous, just people who didn't want to deal with the real world. Go off the grid, she guessed. She scrolled through, knowing some of it, she wasn't living under a total rock. She scanned the photo social media page for their keyboard player, Val Wilde, wondering if that was her real name.

There was Tormund Giantsbane, crazy drum player, and the quiet bassist, Dolorous Edd. He had a real name, but went by his stage name. Then there was the lead singer and main guitarist, Jon Snow. She had to admit, he was pretty hot. Dark curls, deep smoky gray eyes, and skin so pale it made hers look tan. It was like he'd never seen the sunlight. He had a trim black beard and his hair was always pulled halfway back from his face in a bun, the rest left to kiss the collar of his black button-downs. It seemed that was his uniform.

If Tormund and Val were the Wildligns, then Edd and Jon were the "watchmen" in teh title. She flicked through photos of them, candids and concert shots and publicity ones that their label put up. She sneered, Lannister Records, she hated that family. They were involved in _everything._ Tried to steal Balerion Corp but Rhaegar got it back.

She saw that Snow wrote most of the songs. There was a previous member of the band, Ygritte Wilde, a cousin of Val, who died in a car crash just as they started. She had played backup guitar. Rumors were that she and Snow were an item and most of the depressing songs on the album they released after were about her. She wondered why she hadn't heard that one, maybe because it didn't sell much. Too sad.

Because she was a masochist, she dragged up her music app and downloaded their library, shoving her headphones in and leaning back. Missy smirked at her. "Getting ready for the concert?"

"Oh shut up."

~/~/~/~

Her wardrobe for Dorne consisted mostly of silky, flowing, flowery dresses with tie straps and short little fluttering sleeves. Or bathing suits and shorts and grungy t-shirts to wear to the beach. So Missandei had dragged her to a nearby set of boutique shops where she'd berated her into buying a short leather skirt and a matching bandeau top that held little to the imagination and sky-high black platform sandals that put her from five feet two inches to barely topping five feet eight inches.

"Oh look I could be a model now," she commented dryly, standing in front of the floor length mirror in her hotel room, finishing her makeup while Missandei did up the last of her braids, pinning them in a complicated tangled ponytail. She smacked her bright red lipstick, gesturing. "I look ready to go be someone's dom."

"That's hot." Missandei was going to knock Grey's socks off, Dany thought, her best friend looking quite delectable in a navy blue mid-riff baring dress with cross bits of fabric for the bodice. She wore heels too, but hers didn't need to be very tall. She picked up a t-shirt, tossing it towards her. "Here, since you keep covering yourself like you are going into a sept with a Silent Sister."

Dany turned pink. "This dress is just _very_ risque."

"It's hot, you're hot, show it off, enjoy being young!"

"I'm thirty."

"And so am I, it doesn't mean shit anymore." She rolled her eyes. "We are not in a generation where men decided our husbands for us before we even started walking. Forget that Dany, but if you still want to cover up, there's a band tee."

She dropped the bandeau top, which was sticking to her breasts, the evening humidity creeping in already. Instead she slipped on the band t-shirt, gasping when Missandei attacked her with a set of scissors, tearing at the shirt so it still bared her middle but was a lot more comfortable than the leather bandeau. "Damn Missy!"

"It's a rock concert," Missandei said. She grabbed her clutch. "Come on, let's go."

She picked up her little crossbody, just large enough for her phone, key card, and a few bits of cash. She knotted the t-shirt, a bit big for her, beneath her breasts, feeling pretty good. Missy had braided a purple scarf into her hair and it wrapped around like a headband, keeping stray tendrils of silver hair from her eyes. She laughed when Missy poured them shots. "Come on," she laughed. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Just one!"

They tossed back two shots and she stumbled from the room with Missy, both of them laughing at nothing by the time they got to the car she'd ordered. They sped off, meeting Grey outside the arena with the tickets. He'd managed to snag them in the VIP front section, which was already partying with the opening number, some kid named Podrick Payne who just went by "Pod." She found herself getting fuzzier and fuzzier, dancing and laughing with Missy, sweat sticking her braids to the back of her neck, grateful she'd opted for the t-shirt which now was damp and sticking to her.

Her feet were numb by the time the actual concert started, flashing lights and pyrotechnics being a characteristic of Watchmen and Wildlings' concerts. She closed her eyes at one point, letting herself go, swaying with the music, forgetting where she was. She was no longer _trying_ to escape anything.

Because she _was_ escaping.

At one point the tone shifted, the lights dropping and the pyrotechnics quieting, the only sound coming from the guitar, soft strains as the song began. Her eyelids flickered open, staring up, straight at Jon Snow, who was sitting on a stool someone had dragged out, his booted foot propped on the single metal rung, the other holding the guitar steady on his knee as he played. He was in standard fare, all black, but in deference to the heat he'd popped open the buttons on the shirt to his middle and all of his hair was tugged into the bun.

He sang about dreams, she realized, even if the song wasn't strictly saying that. The words were about drowning in a violet ocean, falling forever into silver clouds. She realized it was the song called _The Beast Within_ and wondered if others realized what it was about. Or maybe it was her, hearing someone sing about dreams, about something inside longing to break free, trapped in the darkness, falling forever.

_I know what that's like, feeling trapped._

Her lips moved to the words, somehow knowing them despite only hearing the song a few times. The song picked up, the refrains becoming frantic, his fingers slamming on the guitar strings as the keyboard and drums came in, the muscles in his neck cording as he belted out the lyrics. She found herself singing along, not blinking.

_Drown me in your silence, take from me your needs  
I'm only just a man, begging on my knees  
Asking you to trust me, wanting you for keeps  
Running through the forest, away from the screams  
The wolf howls to the moon, the dragon for the sun  
But when my eyes open, there is no one_

When her eyes opened, she realized that he was staring straight at her, the smoky gray fixed directly on her. She shivered, although it was about 100 degrees in the VIP pit. She felt Missandei grabbing her, falling against her singing. She licked her lips, which were very dry, wondering if he really could see her. There was no way; she'd been on stages before, giving presentations. The darkness of the arena with the bright lights shining on him were too much of a contrast. You couldn't see anyone.

And yet she thought she saw him smile, thought maybe it was for her.

_He's performing, he's a rock star._

The end of the song came and he jumped from the stool, kicking it backwards, knocking it down and jumping across with the guitar, slamming on it and belting into the microphone, yanking it over from where it had been positioned in front of him, the lights and fire shooting bright, illuminating the rest of the band, which slammed out the finish, the arena already screaming before it concluded.

He barely muttered 'thanks' before they went into their next set, back to the hard rock. She noticed that he only really seemed to engage on that song, the rest were almost like he was going through the motions. Or maybe she was the only one who noticed that.

They finished the rest of the concert, by the time Tormund hurled his drumsticks into the crowd to probably blind someone else and took their bows, Val flirtatiously blowing kisses to the audience, including grabbing some poor sod from the front and smacking one on his cheek, probably making his life, and Edd tossed guitar picks for the rest, Dany was sober and Missy was bombed, laughing with Grey as they stumbled their way out of the pit.

"We're going to the club now!" Grey yelled to her, waving. "Red Viper, we'll meet you there if we get separated!"

She nodded, pushing through, reaching into her purse for her phone once she got out of the arena. Sure enough they'd been separated in the melee. She shivered against the desert chill, forgetting that Dorne, while horribly humid during the day and early evening, could plummet to incredible cold with the winds off the sea and from the desert in the east. She wished she had thought to bring a jacket, the sweat beading on her skin chilling and her shirt, while damp, now heavy on her.

Her heels clacked on the pavement, walking away from the crowds pouring out of the arena and she hailed a cab, deciding against going to the Red Viper. Missy and Grey could meet with some of Grey's friends from his days in Essos, some of whom now lived in Dorne, but she wanted something quieter. She remembered there was a bar she liked from when she'd been here last, _gods that was so long ago_ , in the old Water Gardens complex. It was quiet, something she wanted right then after the insanity of the concert.

She climbed into the cab, texting Grey and Missy where she would be, she'd see them later, have fun. The Red Viper was owned by Oberyn Martell-- all the drinks were named after different poisons. Missy was disappointed, shooting her back a series of emoticons expressing such, and saying she was going to miss the private concert the band was going to do there, Grey got tickets special.

The idea of seeing Jon Snow a little closer was nice, but who was she kidding? They were a famous rock band. She chuckled, shaking her head and leaning into the seat, looking out as they drove along the shore. It would be nice to unwind a bit, her head still a little fuzzy from the drinks she'd steadily consumed through the evening and the shots they'd done before.

She escaped the cab, hurrying to the bar, and slipping in, glad to find it far quieter. There was a piano playing. She took a seat and ordered a vodka tonic, the A/C on full blast, and wishing she'd had a coat. She shivered again, swiping her braids back, and sipped the drink when they presented it to her. "Come from the concert?" a kindly older man said from beside her. She glanced sideways; he had a thick Kingslanding accent, from the area known as Flea Bottom.

He smiled again, bushy beard and mustache twitching slightly as he sipped the beer in his hand. It was a Northern ale. She chuckled, glancing at her shirt. "Yeah," she smirked. "Guess my shirt's a giveaway."

"You're in for a treat then."

Before she could ask what that meant, she caught sight of the piano player in the corner, head bent over the keys. Her eyes widened in surprise. _How did he get here so fast?_ She did have a driver who took the long way, she supposed. She looked to the older man, who was still smiling. "But...they're supposed to do some sort of private concert at a club?" she wondered.

The man shook his head. "He skipped that one tonight."

 _Clearly._ The bar was mostly older folks, people coming from the fancy resort next door. No one bothered him, yelled, rushed the corner, nothing. It was like she was the only one who knew. Without the lights, the band, and the iconic guitar he used-- snow white with red strings-- no one probably could tell it was even him. He was still in all black, except this time a t-shirt and jeans with boots, a bomber jacket slung over the bench.

He didn't sing, just played, some songs she recognized, acoustic versions of the hard rock and some she didn't. They sounded old, the melodies flowing like they belonged in stone halls of castles. She remembered seeing online that he was from the North, they all were except Edd, who did spend much of his young adult life there though. She wondered what his history was, he was very reclusive, compared to flamboyant Tormund, Val, and even Edd had a huge social media presence. It was the lead singer, songwriter, and guitar player who kept quiet. Quite odd, she figured, for someone who on stage would jump, smash, scream, and generally create chaos.

She finished her drink and got up, going into the bathroom, flipping her shirt inside-out so the band name wasn't showing. She didn't want him to think she was a stalker or anything. She raked her fingers over her braids, wetting them and taming some of the flyaway strands. A few swipes of lip gloss and trying to fix her eyemakeup-- it just looked more smudged when she finished, ugh-- she returned back to the bar, disappointed to see that he wasn't at the piano. She took her empty seat, ordering another vodka tonic.

The old man was still there, she noted. Except...she blinked quickly, eyes widening a bit, seeing him head bent with Jon Snow, who was scribbling furiously in a black notebook, the ink smudged on his fingers. She cleared her throat, turning to look back into her glass. _Say something Dany. You're on vacation! You're doing something different!_ She was taking back her life. She was going to be the dragon she liked to think she was. In all aspects of her life, not just in her stupid job.

She opened her mouth, about to turn and say something, when she felt movement at her shoulder. She glanced sideways. _It was him._ He leaned against the bar, his voice husky. It had the same quality when he was singing. Except the burr. That she didn't hear in the songs. "You were at the concert."

 _Damnit, so much for the inside out shirt, now I look like a lunatic._ "How do you know that?" she asked, biting on the stir stick, turning to face him, but keeping her legs crossed. He dropped his gaze to her shirt, which even with being inside out, clearly had the dark lettering of the band's logo. She rolled her eyes, sheepish. "Got me. Didn't want to seem like a stalker."

"No, you just seem absent-minded now," he said. He held a bottle of beer loosely in his fingers. They were long and slim, suited for playing guitar. _Or playing me._ She blinked. _Seven hells Dany!_ He ducked his head a little, eyes downcast. He had really long, thick lashes. They gave his eyes an even darker look. He smiled briefly, apologetic. "Sorry, that was...sorry."

 _Is he embarrassed?_ "No I'm sorry," she said. She cleared her throat, wondering what to say that didn't sound stupid. "Um, I was at the concert. You were really good."

"Yeah, Edd and Val were great. Tormund was his usual self."

He hadn't mentioned himself. She cocked her head, whispering. "No I meant you, you were really good."

He blinked. Said nothing, just sipped his beer. He coughed. "Um, I hope this doesn't sound crazy but..." He fumbled his words and she noted in the diml ight of the bar that his cheeks reddened. "I actually remember you. From the concert."

"How?"

"Not many people have silver hair," he whispered. He nodded to her hair, the braids threaded with the purple scarf. It hung around her neck, draped over her shoulder. He smiled again. "I didn't expect to find anyone from the concert here."

It was her turn to fire back. "I didn't expect to find the lead singer here."

He took another swig from the bottle, shrugging. "Sometimes I unwind from concerts by coming to places like this."

"Like what?"

"Quiet."

She arched a brow, lip quirking. "You're a rock musician."

Another pull from the bottle, his gray eyes innocent. "I like quiet too." He set the bottle down and hopped onto the stool beside her, the one older man had vacated a moment before, moving farther down the bar, studying the notebook Jon had been writing in. He draped his arm over the bar, the bottle loose in his fingers. "Did you like it?"

"The concert?" It was her turn to lean on the bar, nonchalant. "It was okay." She was teasing. It had been fun. Fun to just let loose. He briefly smiled. She chuckled. "It was great...that one song...I liked it."

"Which one?"

" _The Beasts Within._ "

A dark look crossed his face. He sipped the bottle and nodded, whispering. "Glad you liked it." He cleared his throat, awkward again, his gaze darting from her to the floor. He was searching for something to say. For someone who was famous, in a pretty flamboyant band, he was awfully awkward.

Maybe it was her. Maybe he knew who she was. Her crazy family made the news from time to time. She twirled her glass around on the walnut bar. "I didn't know you would be here you know. I remembered this place from when I was last in Dorne." She chuckled. "I actually didn't really know your band...I mean, I know _of_ you but my friend is the fan. She got the tickets."  
That brought a smile back to his sad face. "Nice to hear."

She laughed. "I didn't know you played piano?" She'd taken lessons as a kid, but hadn't had the patience. She preferred fighting with her brothers when she could, or horseback riding.

"I play a lot of instruments," he simply said. He finished the beer and pushed from the bar, eyes still on her. Until he was seated at the piano again. He began to play, this time she recognized the song, an old folk song. _Jenny of Oldstones._ It morphed into something else, something new. She propped her head in her hand, listening, nursing her drink, mesmerized.

It went on for awhile, he would just play. Classical music, modern music, some of the band's songs...things she suspected he was testing, because he'd go back to the little book the old man handed back to him, making notes. No one bothered him, just let him play. She didn't realize she was sitting there for well over a couple hours, listening to him, applauding with each song.

By the time he finished, the bar had almost emptied, the staff cleaning up. The old man who he'd been speaking with leaned back towards her. "You liked that one?" he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "It was beautiful."

"Good to know." He offered his hand. "I'm Davos by the way."

"Davos is my manager," Jon said, appearing at his side again. He picked up his jacket and threw some cash onto the bar. "Thanks Edric." He nodded to her, smiling. "It was nice to see you, glad you liked the music."

"I did very much." She hopped off her stool, reaching for her purse. A hand stilled over hers and she saw him nod to the cash he'd tossed onto the bar. She frowned. "I can pay for my own drink."

He narrowed his eyes. "But I paid for it."

"But I _want_ to pay for it."

He stared at her for a moment and she removed some cash from her wallet, placing it on the bar before she swept by him, annoyed that he thought she was just some band groupie. Or some barfly who just wanted a cute guy to pay for her drink. _Seven hells, I'm a millionaire in my own right._ She walked out, realizing that it was so late there was no way she'd be able to just hail a cab. She'd have to Uber or something. Or walk. And her heels were _killing_ her.

"Need a ride?"

She turned, scowling at him, standing there in his tight black t-shirt, his stupid man-bun, and his jacket slung over his shoulder, hanging by his finger. He nodded to the old man, who chuckled and walked off, whistling to himself and affixing a newsboy cap over his head. "Later Davos," he called.

"Don't stay out too late!"

"He your dad or something?" she mumbled, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. Also because the chill was getting to her and without a bra beneath the shirt, she was terrified he'd see straight through.

Jon shook his head, smiling. "No, just my manager."

"Guess they kind of are like dads for bands."

"I suppose."

She pursed her lips, unsure what to say to him. This was a famous rock star standing right in front of her, looking like he'd wander out of some hipster coffee shop on a college campus. All he needed were little round glasses. "I'm staying at Sunspear Villas," she said, referring to the hotel. The entire city was Sunspear, the capital of Dorne. She shrugged. "But seems like I don't have a ride."

"Neither do I." He moved his arm, offering her his jacket. "Here, you need it more than I do right now."

"No I don't." _Yes she did._

"You try to be contrary or does it come naturally?"

She smirked, taking the coat, thrusting it up to his face and shaking. "I'm taking this coat not because I want to or need to, but because if I don't, you'll no doubt throw a diva fit."

He snorted, hands going to his pockets. "Tormund throws the diva fits, not me."

"Your drummer?"

"Yes." They began to walk down the sidewalk. They said nothing, but moved in companionable silence. It was late...or early depending on how you look at it. She crossed her arms again, stopping at a stone wall that looked onto the beach. He paused with her, gazing out. He sighed. "I like playing Dorne. It's different here."

Dorne was always one of the more independent of the provinces. If she remembered her history right, it had constantly been in battles for it, winning, losing, and generally doing its own thing for a very long time. She nodded. "Yes, it has its charms." The Martell family would laugh at that; she knew Rhaegar had dated Elia Martell, one of the heiresses. She was strong and beautiful and there was no way she'd stand by and let someone refer to Dorne as "charming." She shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket, feeling something in her right hand. She removed it, pulling out a lighter and crumpled back of cigarettes. She chuckled, eyebrow lifting. "Is this how you keep your husky voice?"

He grabbed them, smiling, but ducked his head again in that sheepish embarrassment. "Bad habit, Davos hates it." He shoved them into his back pocket, walking away from the wall. He looked back to her, still standing. "You coming or you going to stand there?"

 _What are you doing Dany?_ She smiled, hurrying to him, her heels clomping on the stone, each step slamming pain into her ankles. "Well where are we even going?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does if you're planning on murdering me."

"No plans to murder you tonight."

She smirked. "Another night?"

Then Jon Snow turned, walking backwards and shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. A far cry from the fumbling man at the bar. "Let's see how tonight goes."

A shot of desire went straight through her, like a lightning bolt, and she grinned, hurrying after him as he strode down the street, not waiting for her answer.

~/~/~/~

"Kingslanding is a shithole."

"Completely agree."

They sat on one of the walls overlooking the Summer Sea, sharing a bottle of whiskey purchased at an all night store, which she'd bought, so no one would recognize him and start stories. They had meandered down the streets to this part of the beach, the Water Gardens alight in the distance. She could see Sunspear, a beacon, living up to its name, orange lights glinting in the dark. She sipped the whiskey, handing it back to him. She sighed, shoulders slumping. "But it's my home. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

They'd been talking about nothing. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, this Jon Snow. He was quiet, he didn't interrupt, and she was mystified at his soft demeanor. There were times where he seemed painfully shy and other times where he was firing off dry witty comments and bold statements like he had encouraging her to come with him. A little bit of fire and ice, she thought.

She nodded, staring at the water. It was warm, but in the darkness it had a cold, bottomless quality to it, barely rippling with waves. "Yeah, most of my family is from there, born there, but...I was born on Dragonstone. Raised in Essos. It's my home but..." she trailed off, letting it lie. Her home was kind of everywhere, she didn't know.

He nodded, seemingly understanding. "I spent my whole life in the North," he murmured. He sipped the whiskey. His throat bobbed with his swallow. "But I was born in Dorne, believe it or not."

"What?" she laughed. "No way!"

"Yup. My mom ran away from home, got pregnant, gave birth here, and my uncle came to get me, took me back and raised me in the North." He paused. There was something else, she realized, something he was wrestling with sharing. She touched his hand, to tell him it was alright, he didn't have to tell her anything if he didn't want to. They barely knew each other. He sighed, whispering. "My mom died when I was born, my uncle raised me...my real last name is Stark."

 _Stark!?_ She blinked. "Like Winterfell Industrial Company, Stark?"

"One and the same."

She whistled low under her breath. "Wow, that's something." It was then she realized that she knew who he was, but not once had he asked her what her name was. They'd been wandering for over an hour. Sharing stupid stories back and forth, she'd told him about her family, about Kingslanding, and he'd now told her his real last name. She sighed, supposing she should. She hesitated. "You know, my name is..."

"Don't." _Huh?_ At her questioning look, he shook his head, eyes twinkling. "Don't tell me. It will ruin the illusion."

"And what illusion is that?"

He smiled, that half-smile that didn't meet his eyes. "The illusion that you're just a girl I met in a bar and I'm just a guy you saw play piano."

The smile that tugged over her teeth was wide, almost taking up her whole face. She was really not sure what to make of him. Her voice dropped, hushed. "How about just my first name? I feel unmatched here, Jon Snow. You've told me yours. Let me tell you mine." After a minute, he shrugged, agreeing. Her eyes crinkled. "Dany," she breathed. It wasn't Daenerys. Just Dany.

He stuck his hand out. "Nice to meet you Dany."

"And you Jon."

After that she moved closer to him, their shoulders bumping. They continued to share the bottle back and forth, staring out at the water.

~/~/~/~

"A wolf? No shit!"

"Yup."

Dany threw her head back, laughing, dancing in the sand away from him, her heels loose in her fingers as Jon held the bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, both of them pleasantly buzzed, deciding to walk in the sand instead of the pavement. She shook her head, pointing at him. "You really are something Jon Snow. You have a wolf? Not like a husky who thinks its a wolf?"

"Real wolf," he confirmed. He pulled his phone out, suddenly giddy, giggling as he showed her his home screen, a beautiful albino wolf lolling its tongue at the camera. "Ghost."

"Gods he's _beautiful_!" She grabbed his phone, swiping through the photos. It didn't occur to her that she was just barging into someone's personal life, which was basically what phones were these days. Each photo that came up was of the wolf, running in snow, standing on a cliff, playing with a rope or a ball. She flushed suddenly, the image of a beautiful dark haired woman appearing, gray eyes piercing the camera. She shoved the phone to him. "Sorry."

He glanced at it. "Oh. That's my mother."

"Oh."

"My sister found a bunch of pictures of her." He waved his hand idly. "Cousin, sister, whatever. Sent it to me." He walked by her, feet dragging in the sand. "What about you?"

"I have three cats. I call them dragons."

"Seriously? That's weird right?"

"Not at all, I looove dragons."

He circled her, a wolf with his prey she idly thought, falling against him as she stumbled in the sand. "Like how much?"

She giggled. "Like a lot." She pulled down the arm of his jacket, overlarge on her, showing the tattoos of three dragons hiding under her inner right wrist. He laughed, his thumb pressing to one. It shot another bolt of electricity through her, nerve endings heightened. She licked her lips again, falling against him. She murmured. "Dragons are kind of a family thing too."

He leaned his head against hers, their foreheads touching briefly before he backed away, pointing the whisky bottle at her. "Mother of Dragons you could call yourself, with your cats."

Yes, her kitties were her children. She giggled again, mind going loopy again. "I loooove dragons." She spread her arms out, spinning in circles, the drink turning everything upside down, spinning dizzily. She giggled, shouting out. "I am Daenerys Stormborn! The Dragon Queen!"

He laughed with her, splaying his legs out and locking his feet into the sand, falling forward slightly. It was a real laugh. He tossed back the rest of the whiskey. "To the Dragon Queen!"

"To me!"

"Why do they call you that?" he wondered.

She fell backwards against his chest, taking the bottle and swigging from it, before passing it again. "Because I'm a bitch," she said, sad. That was why. It wasn't because she was strong and powerful and a _queen._ It was because she was a woman and she was powerful and strong.

He snorted. "You're not a bitch." He laughed, something clearly funny to only him. "My sister is a bitch. When we were kids, I made her _swear_ in the godswood not to tell my father something and she went running right to him. Just so she could get a pat on the head and look like the better sibling."

"What secret?"

"Oh stupid shit when you're kids. I swore them not to tell that I was running away, joining the military."

She blinked. "That's not stupid shit!"

Jon laughed again, walking away from her. "It is for me. Didn't work out."

"I guess it did, you're a rock star." She took the bottle from him and he ran around now, strumming an air guitar. They were both so drunk, she barely managed to think.

They walked down the beach a bit longer, silent. Until Jon stopped and stared straight into her, seeing all the way to her soul, she thought. Everything was blurry, he shook his head, brow furrowing. "You're not a bitch. They're just assholes." He ran his finger along her hairline, following a stray curl that escaped from her braids. He tugged on it, smiling, loopy. "Dragon Queen. I like it."

She fell against him, arm looping through his, and her head falling to his arm, the two of them walking silently down the beach.

~/~/~/~

“I came to Dorne for my first vacation in years.”

“I came to Dorne because my manager told me to.”

She giggled, turning her face to his, her arm snaked around his, while they lay in the sand, gazing up at the dark sky, some stars managing to peek through, winking down at them. She pointed to the brightest one. “That’s my favorite. The North Star.”

“Why is it your favorite?”

“Because it leads it you home,” she whispered. She said it almost to herself. Her eyes closed, fatigue seeping through the lovely floating feeling of being drunk and enjoying the company of the man laying in the sand beside her. His arm was around hers, their hands barely touching. She smiled when he finally closed the gap, lacing their fingers, squeezing lightly. She turned her head again, looking at his eyes. They really were gray. No contacts or anything. “Your eyes are so old.”

He tilted his head a bit. “Yours are so purple.”

“I mean like an old soul. You have old soul eyes Jon Snow.”

He touched his free hand to her face, his thumb dragging on her lower lip. “Vacation wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, nose brushing against hers. She shook her head. He was right, vacation definitely wasn’t the only reason. He sighed, his breath tickling the stray strands of hair on her cheek. He closed his eyes and she noticed that he had lines creeping from the corners, too many for someone so young. “I’m tired. I don’t sleep.”

It explained why they were wandering around Dorne at three in the morning. She sighed. “I don’t sleep either…my ex said that it was one of the most annoying things about me. Among other things I did.”

He scowled, but his eyes remained shut. “Fuck that guy.” They opened, lids flickering. He was sad again, the gray darkening. “My ex used to say I didn’t know anything.” He tapped his fingers along her cheek, tugging on a curl again, unraveling it and then smiling when it sprang back. The sadness remained, the heavy weight still on his shoulders. “I didn’t know anything I guess…then she died.”

 _He must be referring to Ygritte._ “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be, shit happens.” He studied her for a moment. “You take risks, Dany?”

The way he said his name with her northern burr flipped her stomach, pressure rising in her lower abdomen. She slid her thighs together, the leather skirt riding up as she moved closer to him in the sand. He moved against her, his arm draping over her shoulders, fingers curling into her braids. They touched their foreheads together and she noticed he had a chain around his neck. She reached for it, pulling out two silver tags. She looked at the name. _Stark, Jon, #998, AB Neg, Old Gods_ She ran her thumb over the indentation, murmuring it out loud.

Huh, he did end up in the military. “I take risks,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if that was true.

“When?”

“When I was in college, I dated a guy who was in a motorcycle gang. His name was Drogo, just one name.” Gosh, she hadn’t thought of Drogo in forever. That was probably the last time she’d done something she’d consider a risk. Everything else was carefully planned. Until recently. “I came to Dorne.” She went to a rock concert. She started walking on the beach with a total stranger. Their eyes met again. “I met you.”

That caused another smile to twist on his lips. They were so full, she thought. She really wanted to kiss them. Would that be a risk? She leaned forward at the same time as him, their lips barely touching each other. The faintest of kisses. Her breath caught in her throat and she heard the same in him. She moved even closer, their hands between them tightening in each other’s, and she let go of whatever doubt or fear she might have had, accepting the kiss.

It was so soft she barely felt it at first. Until she did, moaning when he pressed her into the sand, their bare feet entangling, her skirt riding even farther up around her waist, her free hand pressed into the back of his neck, mouth opening beneath his, feeling his tongue prod lightly against her closed lips, before slipping in effortlessly. She didn’t want him to break free, she wanted him closer.

Her toes curled into his calf, knee rising up to hook over his hip. The kiss deepened further and she gripped him tighter, until he pulled away, forehead pressing to hers. Their breaths mingled, chests rising and falling. She smiled, realizing her shirt was still inside out. His hand was on her exposed ribcage, thumb pressed at the indentation of the curve of it to her sternum. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, wanting more of it.

Except he pulled away from her and took her hands, tugging her to her feet. “Come on,” he said, the dog tags jangling together, bouncing on his chest as he spun her around, rushing her towards the rising tide.

She laughed. “Where are we going?”

“To take a risk.”

~/~/~/~

“Fuck that’s freezing!”

“It’s supposed to be warm!” she shrieked, diving into the water, hoping maybe if she tried again it would be warmer. _Nope_! She laughed, falling against him, their wet lips sliding against each other, huddling together in the water, limbs sliding against each other as they sunk further into the dark water, waves lapping at their shoulders.

It felt a bit warmer now, Dany supposed. Jon was a sublime kisser. Not too tender or rough, just the right amount of pressure, his lips were perfect, just like his body. She ran her hands over the expanse of his chest, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath her fingertips, skimming across his strong arms that held her aloft beneath the water, while her legs snaked around his, rocking into him.

She paused, her thumb scraping over his left pectoral muscle, but she felt something else beneath her hand, frowning and breaking away, staring at the slightly raised scar that curved around in a sickle-shape. There were more, she could feel them under her hands, the proof that he’d endured something violent and angry. He didn’t smile, but looked worried, brow furrowed. His hand covered hers, which spread out over his heart, feeling it beat reassuringly under her palm.

He answered her silent question, whispering. “Military. It was how I got out, basically.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed.

“Don’t be.” He kissed her again, hand diving back into her hair. She almost forgot herself again, unable to stop once they started. He broke the kiss a moment later, breathing deep. “It is what it is.”

She rose over him slightly, her braids wet ropes over her shoulder and her breasts straining against the t-shirt she still wore, scraping over his chest. He groaned into her mouth and she smiled, unable to believe how fucking _perfect_ this felt. _Taking a risk._ “Jon,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

She was about to suggest they go back to her hotel. Take a risk as it were, but a massive wave smacked at them both, knocking them apart and beating her into the sea, her arms and legs flying about trying to right herself. Water flooded her nostrils and she coughed, sputtering to the surface, stumbling back onto the shore. “Jon!” she called.

He was running over to her, holding their clothes. “We have to go,” he laughed, shoving her skirt at her while he tripped into his jeans.

Dany was going to ask why, but it became obvious, seeing beach patrol in their little golf cart heading towards them, bright headlights flashing on the empty beach. “Fuck!” she laughed, squealing as she tried to tug her leather skirt over her wet sandy thighs. She squealed, taking off across the sand as he chased after her, both of them still drunk and high from their kissing, now feeling even fuzzier with the threat of getting caught on a private beach after hours.

They couldn’t stop laughing, running off and up through a broken fence line, which she realized was a set of old ruins that were right beside her hotel. A wave of disappointment hit her. It was almost over, they were almost to her hotel. She turned in his arms, lips trembling as he pressed her to the rocky wall, their skin clammy and damp. His hair had come out of its bun and was an inky tangle around his face.

She realized her shirt was now see-through, arms covering her breasts, laughing. “Whoops, didn’t think that through.”

“Jacket to the rescue again,” he teased. He draped it around her, tugging the zipper up. She grinned, kissing him again. And again. And again.

They managed to find their way from the ruins to the sidewalk and when her feet hit the concrete, she stopped. _Well shit._ She burst into a fit of giggles, her fists hitting his chest lightly. “Shit!”

“What?”

“My shoes!”

They both looked down at her bare feet and devolved again into laughter. “They’re probably halfway down the beach,” he said, grinning. He shrugged, his eyes positively dancing. It was amusing for him, she thought, he didn’t have to walk around in bare feet! He turned and walked a few steps ahead before turning his head. “Hop on.”

“Hop what?”

“Hop on, can’t have your dainty feet get messed up from the sidewalk, can we?” He smirked. “And it is kind of my fault we lost your sandals.”

Yes, it had been his idea to walk on the beach. She grinned and took a running leap, jumping onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck. He groaned at the sudden weight hitting him and she smacked his shoulder. “Shut up, I don’t weigh that much.”

“Like a bag of rocks.”

“Onward, my good sir.”

“I’m not a knight.”

“Oh no, you’d be a king.”

He tilted his face up, pecking her lips. “And you’d be a queen.”

She laughed, pointing ahead. “March, my king!”

“As my queen commands.”

~/~/~/~

They walked up to the hotel, receiving some strange looks from the valet and bellhops at their damp and sandy appearances, while she had no shoes. She showed her key card and he ducked his head, hand clasped in hers as they walked through the lobby. The large wall of windows overlooking the Summer Sea were filling with the faint hints of sunlight, a pale orange glow spreading over the dark sea.

They’d been out all night, gods she couldn’t remember when she’d been out all night. Dany felt good. Tired, but a good tired. She kept her hand in his, turning slightly, not wanting it to end yet. Not wanting to go upstairs to her empty room. To her empty bed. He could come with her, but the day was beginning, people moving around in the back of the hotel desk…Missandei was probably going to be hitting her up soon, wondering where she’d gone.

The night was ending, she thought sadly. She still didn’t let him go. “Play me a song,” she whispered.

“Where?”

There was a piano in the lobby, in a corner where there was a small bar. She nodded to it and he let go of her hand, walking over and taking a seat at the bench. He ran his fingers over the ivory keys, before gesturing for her to sit beside him. She did, her shoulder pressed to his, not caring if anyone saw them.

They made quite a pair, she thought, looking as messy and tired as they did. Her mind felt clearer, the cold water waking her up some. Except her head was heavy, sleep creeping into her consciousness. She rested it on his shoulder, closing her eyes, listening to him play, the song unrecognizable.

It reminded her of dragons, she thought, hearing the deep notes interspersed with higher ones. Reminded her of flying and love and dreams. She could see it in her mind, flying over the rippling blue sea, over snowy waterfalls and diving into hot, sandy canyons. She sighed deeply, not wanting it to end.

Until it did.

Because everything had to end, even beautiful nights. She flicked her eyes open, lifting them up to his. He’d turned his head to peer down at her. She smiled up at him, whispering. “Thank you.”

“I just made it up.”

I wasn’t talking about the song, she thought. She shook her head a little, before climbing off the bench. He went with her, neither of them saying anything, stepping into the elevator. She hit the button for her floor and leaned against him again. They rode up in silence and stepped off in silence.

At her door, she fingered her key card, not wanting to open the door yet. When she opened the door the night would be over for good. She turned, pressed against the door as he leaned over her, lips brushing each other. “I had fun tonight,” she whispered. _I just don’t want this to end._ She grinned, eyebrows lifting. “I never really liked your band, but it wasn’t bad.”

“Ouch,” he grinned. He brushed her hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. She did the same for him, her hand falling to the back of his neck again, thumb scraping at his hair. He was sad again. The look he’d had when she’d first encountered him in the bar. The longing and wondering.

It was time to say goodbye. Time to return to the real world, where nights ended, and strangers became strangers again. Where rock stars went back to being rock stars and whatever she was…she went back to her life. A life where she had a bit of clarity. _Or I hope I do._ She closed her eyes, resigned, whispering softly to him. “My name is Daenerys Targaryen.”

And there it was. Her real name. First and last. The illusion was gone now.

He knew it too, his head bumping hers, kissing her one more time. Soft and sweet, just the barest press of his lips. “I had a nice night Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Me too Jon Snow.” She let go of his hand, watching as he walked backwards from her, until he turned, hands shoving into his pockets and walking off. She watched him walk away, until the elevator dinged and she was alone.

The door closed behind her when she stepped into her room and she slid down to the floor, bare feet crumpling under her and it wasn’t for another hour that she realized she was still wearing his jacket.

~/~/~/~

“You cut off your vacation early, why did you do that? Everything alright?”

“I’m fine, just wanted to get home, missed the kittens,” she said, straightening up from setting the three little bowls of food on the floor of her kitchen, her kitties rushing to them and eating ravenously, like the little dragons they were. She turned around, wiping her hands on her thighs, the fabric of her jeans rough under her palms.

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes on her, clearly not convinced. He had only stopped by to feed her cats, finding that she was already home. He scowled. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened!” Which was kind of the point. She laughed, gesturing to the front door of her condo. “Now get out. Go back to work or something.”

He frowned, but didn’t say anything, which was part of why she loved him. He let her be, didn’t push when he knew she didn’t want to be pushed. She accepted the kiss he dropped to her forehead, patting his back lightly. “Call me if you need anything,” he said.

“I promise.” She opened the door, ushering him out, but her peace was short term. She settled onto her couch with a new book, intent on savoring a bit of whatever this _vacation_ happened to be, when Missandei sent her a text, blaring in all caps.

_**GIRL! PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS NOT YOU BECAUSE YOU WOULD OF COURSE HAVE TOLD ME. RIGHT?!?!?** _

Dany had absolutely no idea what her friend was talking about, but a link soon followed in a separate text. Oh gods, she thought, heart falling as she hit the link for a Raven message, the little black bird chirping in the app when she opened it up. Her eyes widened, staring at the picture that someone had taken and posted on a fansite for Jon Snow, immediately re-squawked by other Raven accounts.

It was of them in the hotel lobby, her head on his shoulder as he bent over the piano, intense concentration in his expression. Thankfully his body shielded most of her face, but her silver hair was clear in the shot. As were her bare feet, dangling from the piano bench. The caption from the initial poster said that she was leaving early for a flight from Dorne when she _swore_ she saw rock star Jon Snow playing the piano with a mystery woman in the lobby bar of the Sunspear Villas at almost five in the morning.

Her teeth grit. “Seven hells,” she cursed, even if she didn’t believe in the Seven. She shot back a text to Missy, trying to be cheeky. _**I’ll never kiss and tell.**_ Complete with a winking emoticon. She silenced her phone, dropping it onto the couch, one of her cats Drogon coming up to paw angrily at it for invading his preferred nap location.

She went to her room, taking the black bomber jacket that hung on the peg behind her closet door. She reached into the pocket and removed the hotel key and water-logged blurry card that went with it. _Room 4, Four Summers Hotel Sunspear._ It had been two days, but…she sighed hard and went back to the living room, swiping her phone and typing in the number before she could change her mind.

The receptionist answered, cheerily calling. “Thank you for calling the Four Summers Hotel Sunspear, how many I direct your call?”

“Um, yes I’m looking to be connected to a guest.” _Please be there._ At the same time she also hoped he wasn’t there. She really didn’t know which one she wanted. It was just one night. That was it. Nothing more.

“Name of the guest?”

“Um, Jon Snow.”

The receptionist paused, her breath catching. “Ah…there’s no Jon Snow here, you have the wrong hotel.”

Jon Snow…Jon Snow… She quickly smiled, realizing that of course he wouldn’t check in with that name. “Um, Jon Stark, maybe?”

“Jon Stark checked out this morning I’m afraid.”

“Oh…thank you.” She disconnected before the woman could ask any further questions. Or before she could try to find out where he went. Of course, he wasn’t in Dorne anymore. They were on to the next location of their tour. He hadn’t even told her where he made most of his life when they weren’t on the road. Other than saying that Kingslanding was a shithole and he was from the North. She figured that’s where he lived. Where most of them lived, actually.

It didn’t matter. It was just one night. Just one night where she was Dany and he was Jon and they were two perfect strangers who got along great, made out, swam in the ocean, and who she’d told random things about growing up on Dragonstone, wishing she could fly on a dragon, and hadn’t taken a risk.

It didn’t matter. She had to return to her life. She had decided to change things up and that’s exactly what she’d done. She’d escaped, she’d done something rather crazy and so _not_ Dany and now she was just…back to reality.

Drogon meowed, clawing at her arm, demanding pets. She smiled at him. “Okay, okay, silly boy.” Rhaegal and Viserion popped up beside her, butting their heads, wanting their pets as well. She slid down into the couch cushions, closing her eyes, and after a moment she hit the music app on her phone, the sound of Watchmen and the Wildlings filling the room.

~/~/~/~

“So how is the North, cold?”

“Freezing, isn’t it supposed to be summer?”

Rhaegar laughed from his no doubt warm office back in Kingslanding. "Sweet summer child. The North barely gets warm even in summer. They think it’s positively a million degrees though I bet, everyone running around in shorts and t-shirts while you’re in a puffy jacket.”

She looked at the black puffer coat she was wearing, scowling that he knew her too well. “Shut up. The school was wonderful though, I’m excited that we’re looking to expand.” They were going to build bigger dorms and she was looking forward to establishing a career program for the upperclass students. Her work as a corporate raider was long over and she’d completely taken over the charitable aspects of Balerion Corp., starting first with a visit to the North to look in on the various schools there.

And maybe to see why Jon Snow spoke so fondly of it. She really understood, as cold as it was for her southern blood, it was a beautiful place. There was an austere beauty to it, everything seemingly painted cool blues, browns, and grays. The buildings were mostly stone, and the old castle loomed large over the town, the Stark name on just about everything.

Including the plaque, she’d seen, small and slightly smudged, on the bottom step leading into the school she’d visited. _This building made possible with the generous donation of Jon Stark_.

The hotel where she was staying had a pub attached, loud music filtering from the open doors and windows. It was fastpaced, old folk music, she thought, hearing cello and fiddle strings, with drums and piano. She stepped inside, unzipping her coat, taking in the people who were laughing and slamming ale horns against each other as they sang to the old song about the Bear and the Maiden Fair. She caught the attention of the bartender, who leaned over the old oak bar, asking for her drink.

“Ah…ale I guess,” she laughed. Might as well do as the locals do, she guessed, taking an empty seat, looking to the stage where the band was playing. Her eyes widened, staring at the fiddle player. _No way._

Jon Snow was standing in the corner, moving in place, the fiddle under his chin, his arm moving fast as he moved the bow and fingers rapid along the strings, keeping the frantic pace of the song. It ended with the slam of the drums and he dropped the fiddle, grinning and laughing as the guitar player smacked his back, almost knocking him forward. “Jon Snow everyone!” the gruff white bearded man shouted.

He bowed, handing the fiddle back to the actual player and moved to hop of the stage, before he caught her gaze. She lifted her ale horn in his direction, grinning. He grinned back, pushing through the crowd and emerged in front of her. It had been a month since Dorne, but he didn’t look any different, she thought. Except perhaps the knowing look in his gray eyes, the sly smile pulling over his teeth. He leaned into her and she realized he was wearing glasses. He leaned against the bar, still grinning. “You stalking me?” he teased.

“You seem to always be in the bars where I want to get a drink, so maybe you’re stalking me,” she said. She pretended as though he wasn’t affecting her, when his very presence had her mouth going dry and nervous anticipation forcing a tremble in her thighs. She looked over his shoulder, where the band was starting again. “They’re pretty good up there.”

“That’s Jeor Mormont, he’s an old rocker himself.”

“Seriously?” That was Jorah’s dad! She gaped. “No way.”

“Way.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, smiling at her again. He nodded to the door. “You want to go on a walk?”

A walk? “I owe you your jacket back,” she murmured, hopping off the stool and stepping into him. Her fingers danced over the open collar of his black shirt, feeling his skin warm beneath her hand. He shivered, as did she. She leaned closer, whispering up into his ear. “It’s back at my hotel.”

He lightly kissed her temple, his fingers snaking around her neck, hand cupping around it. It was her turn to gasp softly, eyes closing. “I had another idea.”

“Oh?”

“Hmm, you see I have a house here.” He kissed the shell of her ear, lips brushing down to her lips, his smile breaking over hers and he swallowed her giggle in a quick, hard kiss. Her toes rose off the ground, surprised at his boldness. He broke the kiss and pressed his nose to hers, eyebrow lifting. “And I walked you to your hotel last time.”

She giggled, tugging his hands. “You did.”

“It’s not a far walk…we could watch the sunset,” he said, pushing her towards the door, still grinning.

Dany pushed him out the front door, ignoring the pictures from some of the tourists as they emerged onto the step, her arm snaking around his waist as he draped his over her shoulders, stumbling together down the sidewalk. “Hmm, I had another ideas Jon Snow.”

That night as she lay in his arms, drowsy with the sated feeling of being thoroughly loved and warm down to her toes, she smiled to herself, fingers dancing across his collarbone, glad she’d decided to take that chance.

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. It's definitely not the best I've written, but it was fun.
> 
> ETA: I don’t know what I’d do for a sequel, I guess more no plot cuteness? I’m thinking about it, just unsure.


End file.
